The anti- poem

A sleeping poem comes late and bleary-eyed.
A bird repeatedly pecks at our thought space
Its staccato call mistaken for a loud rain call
Anti- call, the thesis of which is in the making.
You cannot have  anti- without its first being.

Luckily there are large gaps in  understanding .
More rain- puddle jumping is done in thought
When the vehicle passes hurling its first mud.
There are some rainbows that vanish in a trice
So we hold our skirts and practice our jumping
Our anti- is formed even  before thought is made.


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